The Darkness that Follows

Disclaimer: This is a HORROR story that features strong language and very graphical descriptions of scenarios that may be disturbing to some readers.

Disclaimer 2: This story was written as a submission to a magazine and was finetuned and edited over multiple passes. A.K.A. Unlike the others, this was not written in real time.

The Darkness that Follows

By: VIktor F. Krown

It is early summer. Halfway through the day I find myself out in the park again. It’s later in the afternoon and the weather is perfect for a novice photographer. Shadows are bright, and the sun is still high, providing plenty of natural light, giving photos an unparalleled natural tone. I often find myself in this park, snapping pictures of nature’s beauty. Be it the pearlescent feathers of birds sunbathing on branches or a bold squirrel sneaking up on unsuspecting lovers picnicking in the evening. There is always something interesting to see and capture.

The world looks different through the lens of a camera and there is little I love more than uncovering the secrets of beauty hidden right before one’s eyes. Time flies, at the corner of my eye I spot a gorgeous contrast of purple and blue against the forest’s greenery. I turn and stare in awe at a large and beautiful butterfly with blue iridescent wings that shimmer in the evening sun. It is no smaller than the palm of my hand. I watch it for a long moment, absolutely mesmerized by its graceful dance in the gentle breeze as it flies into the lush forest. ‘Whoa, I’ve never seen anything like it before! I gotta get a close up pic!’ I think to myself and I quickly glance at the clock: 7:13 pm. The sun is starting to set slowly, casting long shadows and shifting the colors to a warmer, more orange palette. ‘Gotta be quick before it gets dark.’ I remind myself and follow the large blue butterfly with purple wing outlines down the narrow, overgrown trail into the forest, eager to capture a perfect picture of this creature’s beauty. 

I rejoice as I watch it land on a white wild lily with red spots. ‘Perfect, couldn’t have asked for better contrast,’ I whisper under my breath as I crouch down and sneak up on it. I ready my camera and zoom in, then snap a dozen or so pictures at slightly different angles. The orange glow of the setting sun piercing through the canopy and lush greenery of the forest creates a truly mesmerizing backdrop for these images. I switch to burst mode and squeeze the button just in time  as a gentle gust of wind makes it take flight. Still crouched, I quickly glance over some of the pictures and smile. Pleased with the day and the fantastic scene I just captured, I get up and stretch my sore legs, then look back, atthe path I came from – ‘well, time to head back.’ My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten today. The butterfly flutters past me, I smile at it and speak softly, “you are the highlight of my day.”

I walk down the overgrown path. The gentle breeze is pleasantly refreshing and the orange glow breaking through the canopy above is adding a sense of adventure to this casual walk. Suddenly, the bushes rustle behind me, I glance over my shoulder and see nothing. ‘It’s just the wind,’ I tell myself, but something feels off, different, strange enough to make me desire to leave this forest in haste. It’s that feeling of uneasiness you get when your body tells you something is not right, but you can’t put your finger on it. I shiver as a chill runs down my spine while I fight the unexplainable and uncanny feeling with reason. ‘The sun is setting; I am hungry and exhausted. My body is likely just demanding rest and food, and my instincts are trying to get me home faster,’ I try to convince myself. 

Before long, I find myself having to concentrate and squint to see the path under my feet. “Did I really venture that far into the forest following the butterfly?” I question myself as I glance over my shoulder at the eerie forest behind me, dimly illuminated by the rapidly setting sun. “I guess I did,” I answer my own question and pick up my pace. At least the path is still obvious and visible enough, and I shouldn’t be too far from the main park road anymore. I reach into my pocket, pull out a plastic protective cover for the lens and scamp it on to make sure I don’t accidentally scratch it on anything.

There it is again: the rustling. Even though no wind brushed my hair this time, another chill runs down my spine. ‘A squirrel or something of the sort, must be,’ I try to calm myself walking even faster. For some reason I feel the desire to turn the camera’s flash on, I do so instinctively and keep a firm grasp on my camera that is hanging on a strap around my neck.

Almost there, I can see the faint glow of the street lantern on the park’s main path, although few and far between they still offer enough light for evening joggers and riders to get through the park without relying solely on the moon or their personal lights, and offer me a sense of safety. ‘Phew, made it.’ I take a deep breath but keep my pace instead of slowing down, still about ten meters to go till I reach the main math. All is quiet, for now.

I am a city kid, the concrete jungle brings me peace of mind. Standing on a pavement offers me a sense of comfort and familiarity which is relaxing to me. Directly across from the path I just exited is a small street lantern. I approach it and take a moment to catch my breath from the fright before. Suddenly, something moves in the bushes that cover the overgrown trail path I was just on. The bushes rustle and shake. Startled, I take a step back. “Wh..who’s there?” I say as if expecting a response. Realizing just how horror-film-protagonist it is to ask ‘who’s there’ when alone at night in a park, I almost chuckle but hold it in. Afraid but curious, I peer into the darkness. Unsurprisingly, nothing peers back at me. I’m relieved and my lips curl into a slight smile at the absurdity of my question. Yet something still feels off. 

I raise the camera and squeeze the button; the flash goes off in an instant, like a lightning strike.

The forest and bushes light up momentarily and in that instant, my smile vanishes. My eyes grow wider and my heart skips a beat, or stops completely for a brief moment, I’m not sure. ‘What did I just see?’ I stare in fright at the afterimage of a disfigured shape, still burned into my retinas. Beyond the bushes, on the trail I was just on, stands a creature that barely resembles a human. It is a scrawny creature with appendages that are long, crooked, and boney, and the skin covering them hardly looks human. It isn’t facing me, yet. Its skeletal back is hunched over and what I assume to be the bald back-side of its head faced me. Its fingers are warped, and now a stench that I cannot describe fills my nostrils. 

I struggle to swallow as I feel my throat tighten. ‘Did I imagine it? Should I flash again?’ My mind races, tears building up in my eyes, and my legs shake uncontrollably. I try to think rationally: ‘Maybe it’s an ill person? Or someone homeless? I should call out and ask if they need help – that would be the right thing to do, right? No! what if it isn’t a human? What if they, no, it, attacks me?’ My mind jumps to that conclusion, and before I can muster any courage to utter a single word, I hear a voice. It’s coming from the direction of that thing I just saw. Its voice is like nails on a chalkboard, unpleasant and irritating, almost painfully screechy. It pierces my eardrums and makes me clench my teeth in discomfort.

“PLEAAASSSEEEEE,” it says, its voice still ringing through my head even after the screech came to an end.

Realization settles in, ‘this is definitely not a sick or homeless person.’ I gasp. I want to cry out for help – but as I part my lips, no sound escapes my throat. I’m stumbling backwards, my entire body is shaking uncontrollably, yet I can’t make a peep. ‘Somebody, please let there be somebody,’ I plead, but deep inside I know: these prayers are in vain.

I hear a pop in the direction of the trail where it stands, and then another. A moment later the creature steps closer, still on the path behind bushes – now dimly illuminated by the small street lantern I found myself backed against. A surge of terror causes my knees to give out and I sink down onto my knees. The sudden jolt of pain from the impact of my knees on the pavement seemingly unleashes the tears from my eyes, I now feel them rolling down my cheeks. My jaw trembles like the last leaf on a tree in the autumn breeze, but only sounds coming from my mouth are gasps and sobs. It tilts its seemingly eyeless face to the side, not a hair on it. Still, it vaguely resembles a human, except that instead of eyes it has only empty sockets, and a tiny mouth. Even though it’s seemingly blind, I can feel it peering at me.

Every fiber in my body is screaming for me to flee, but I am frozen in place – too afraid to move a muscle; I sit there in the light of the street lantern like an actor on the stage, or a meal on a platter, defenseless and exposed. My eyes are glued to its lack thereof. Its long, thin leg protrudes through the bushes, and in a swift yet jerky movement it lurks forward, closer to me. The creature stands on the road now, only a step or two away from me. My heart is pounding in my chest, like a caged wild animal, desperately trying to break out. ‘No, please, no! For the love of God, don’t come any closer, please,’ I plead in my mind, but the creature jerks again, extends its long leg, and takes another swift step towards me, its tiny mouth opens only slightly, and then it’s petrifying voice rang through my head once more, “pleasssse, don’tsssssss,” the words turned into a hissing sound. My mind went blank.

It straightened its head out, and the hiss ended abruptly the same instant. Standing there, looking down at me it grabbed a bug that was flying towards the light in a swift and precise movement. Opening its mouth slightly, it brought the bug to its lips. My eyes wander from where its eyes would be – down to its small mouth with dry and cracked lips, like soil in a drought. I don’t see any teeth, only a strangely thin tongue as it places the bug on it, and a moment later I hear an audible gulp as it swallows the beetle. “Nosssssss,” it hisses at me again, then brings its leg closer to me, and suddenly, it is crouched right before me. It examines me and then gives me a curious sniff, as a dog would when meeting someone new. Its nose is short and stubby, like that of a bat. Its face is ugly and disfigured, disturbing to look at. Its hands reach under my armpits, and then it straightens out, bringing me up to my feet with it. It holds me firmly and keeps my back pressed firmly against the light’s pole. I tremble in its hands like a newborn fawn. My legs are so weak I’d collapse right back onto the ground if it were to release me. Tears are running down my cheeks, as is urine, running down my legs. Through the crying mess and ugly sniffling I manage to stutter, “p…Please… Please d…Don’t…Don’t…. Please…” I plead. 

The creature pulls its head away from me a little and tilts it slightly to the side like a confused dog. Then it screeches at me again. “PLEAAASSSSSSE,” repeating what I said, like a parrot that is learning new words. “Haaa!” I gasp out hopelessly, my mind going blank upon feeling its grasp strengthen. Breathing is becoming more difficult – I feel as if I might faint any moment, but deep inside I still hope and pray this is all but a terrifying dream. The feeling of its slimy, sticky, and bumpy tongue slithering up my cheek brings me right back to my senses, forcing me to face the horror before me once more. 

I shut my eyes, my body continues to tremble. I let out a barely audible squeal as I feel its tongue push my left eye’s lids open and slip under them. I jerk my head to the side out of disgust and instinct, but it follows my movement precisely. Its tongue presses against my eyeball, pushing it down and out of the way. I feel it slip past my eyeball, and then I feel sudden pressure. Something pops; I hear an audible gulp and feel warm liquid running down my cheek. My heart starts pounding faster than ever before. I feel like it might seize up like an overworked engine. My body falls limp, my knees buckle, but the creature holds me firmly in its grasp. I feel no pain, only terror.

‘My eye… Did it just take my eye? My fucking eye! No! Stop it! No more!! Wake up! Come on! WAKE! THE FUCK UP!!!’ My mind still refuses to believe any of this is happening. The creature releases my left empty eye socket and then I feel it plant its lips around my right eye; I have no will or strength to resist anymore.

‘Please! Somebody help me!’ Its tongue pries my eyelids open once again and slips past my eyeball.

Darkness, I see nothing but darkness before me and feel the pressure as my eye gets pulled out of its socket, followed by a painful snap, and then I hear it, the gulp, ‘the fucking gulp! STOP!’ I cry out in my mind, but it is far too late. ‘I don’t want to die! Somebody, anybody, please help.’ Though deep inside I despaired, I came to terms with it – ‘I’m going to die.’ My cheeks are wet and warm with the blood gushing from my eye sockets. I begin to faint, and with my consciousness fades the hope for survival too. The sounds turn muffled as I slowly drift into unconsciousness. Into the darkness.

There is a shout, off in the distance – distorted and muffled, it is barely audible to me as if I am underwater. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!!!” The shout is followed by a loud bang that will ring in my ears for a while longer. It releases me at that moment and I fall to the ground, another jolt of pain shoots up from my knees as they impact the pavement, but this time the pain is numbed. 

“Jesus Christ what was that?” I think I hear a man say.

“I don’t know man but whatever it was, I don’t wanna see it ever again!” 

“Hang in there, buddy” said a faint voice, I could just barely make out his words, and feel his firm grasp on my shoulder. “Everything is going to be alright, you’ll be fine!” 

Some indistinct chatter and radio calls follow; I can’t make out their conversation anymore. ‘Cops? Or perhaps park rangers? I don’t know, I don’t care, I’m safe! I. Am. Safe.’ I repeat these words in my mind as darkness and silence take over.

I’m not sure how long has passed since that night. Hospitals, doctors, physical therapy, pills, so many pills and so much to get used to. The cops stopped by at some point too; the official report they filed concluded that I was attacked by a psychopath.

‘What a load of crap. I get it but anger fills me, as does sorrow.’ My camera has no evidence either.

‘Right, I had placed that protective cover over the lens to protect it – how stupid of me, but how was I supposed to predict getting attacked by some wendigo thing in a city park?’ But they wouldn’t listen to me, claiming that post-traumatic stress disorder skewed my memories and perception of what had really happened. I know what I had seen and heard on that night – ‘it wasn’t human’ – yet there was nothing left for me to do but to move on. I had to adapt to my new lifestyle, relinquishing my dream of revealing to the world – through photography – the beauty that is hidden in plain sight.

  I was told they had swept the entire forest but the efforts were in vain: All tracks led nowhere and eventually they reopened the park to the public. 

Home at last! 

My caretaker comes in daily to prepare me food and take care of the house chores, as well as help me throughout the day. She is a sweet girl, in her 30s by the sound of  her voice. Every morning the smell of coffee greets my nostrils as I slowly awaken. And as I would regain my focus, a pleasant sound of sizzling eggs, along with the gentle feeling of the morning sun beaming through the window would grant me strength to get up and go about my morning routine. When I exit the washroom her gentle voice would always greet me, “good morning! Slept alright?” And usually the answer was “well enough.” 

 A few days pass in peace. Shortly after the caretaker leaves for the day I head to bed. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but as I lie in my bed I feel a gentle breeze on my face. ‘Must’ve forgotten to close the window,’ I think to myself. But then, my body freezes in terror as I hear the nightmarish, screeching voice once more. The voice of the creature from that night. It comes from the corner of my room.

“Pleaaaassssee.” I hear no movements, and a moment later I reach for my white cane and poke at the corner with it, nothing out of ordinary; just my wardrobe. A nightmare, it must’ve been a nightmare.’, I try to calm myself once more. Since then, every night, I hear it in the corner of my room, sometimes the same corner, and sometimes different. I haven’t slept in days. The police say there are no signs of intrusion. They ask the caretaker to stay the night at my place, and she agrees without hesitation, since so far we’ve had no issues getting along.

The next morning, everything was different. There was no gentle scent of coffee tickling my nostrils as I returned from dreams back to the world of consciousness. I sat up in the bed and there was no sound of sizzling eggs to welcome me back to the land of reality that morning, and when I left the room I was greeted by silence, there was no ‘good morning! Slept alright?’ She wasn’t there, but there was something, “PLEAAASSSEEEEE” its screechy voice echoed through the otherwise eerily silent flat.